Give me Something to Believe in
by AKJ4
Summary: Set post 'For Better or For Worse'. Beckett and the team try to deal with the emotional fallout of the accident, all the while conducting a twisting investigation which will lead them all into danger. Read on for conspiracies, secrets, lies, and a murder or two. 2014 Ficathon Entry.
1. Chapter 1

**Give me Something to Believe in**

She near enough tumbles from the car – her _wedding_ car – even before it has completely stopped moving. She lifts up the full skirt of her dress – her _wedding_ dress – in a move only to facilitate her running, mindless of the dirt she kicks up to mar the hem. And then she stops. Her eyes rest on a familiar car in the bottom of the ditch. Flames have already engulfed everything that is flammable. The stench of burning plastic fills her nostrils and the combination of this, the intense heat on her face and the smoke filling her lungs makes her eyes water. But it is only the thought of what the wreckage before her represents which causes tears to spill, causes her breath to stall and come in great ragged inhales and exhales.

An arm snakes around her waist and pulls her backwards. At the same time, Ryan's face appears before her, grasping the hands which reach with futility towards the car. "It's his." The words are garbled with devastation. "It's Rick's car." And then she's chocking and coughing against the sobs and the smoke and the heat.

Shock has made her dazed and disorientated. It's a joint effort by Ryan and Esposito to wrestle her back a mere few feet to a slightly safer distance from the burning metal carcass.

"I need to see!"

"No, you don't need to see," Espo calmly counters. "The cops, CSU, the-" he cuts himself off before mention the ME. A vision of Castle's body upon an autopsy table is not what any of them need, though the thought is surely not far from their minds. "They'll tell you all you need to know."

Still, she fights them, sobbing harshly, pushing against her colleagues hands. "But I need to… To help him! Rick!"

"Trust me Beckett," he continues over her desperate calls of her finance's name. "They're doing all they can. You don't need to go down there. Ryan and I don't need to, and you most certainly don't."

She shakes her head desperately and her cries become louder as both detectives fight her flailing limbs to drag her to their hire car. Although in a different setting, the image is strangely reminiscent of the aircraft carrier; Castle hauling her up, kicking and sobbing, away from Montgomery and his sacrifice. He'd pinned her to his car, their eyes locked and both parties spilling tears. He'd muffled her sobs, he'd stroked her hair. All this while their friend, a member of their _family_, was shot to death mere metres from where they stood.

What Beckett wouldn't give for him to be here now, sitting next to her, carding his fingers through her curls. He would hold her close, whisper soothing words so close to her ear that she would be able to feel the warmth of his breath against her neck. She would press her face against the soft warm shirt at his chest and breath in his familiar scent and spicy aftershave, further solidifying his presence. Gradually, she would relax in his embrace, her sobs lessening to sniffles and the occasional shuddering breath as she believes his words telling her he's okay, and he's here, and he's _alive_.

But, heartbreakingly, the scene is not to be, cannot be. It is Esposito sitting next to her, not her fiancé. And no words from the cop can ever calm her desperation and building sense of devastation.

Despite Javi's earlier words and despite knowing they need to get Kate away from the evidence of her fiancés accident, what is clear on Ryan and Esposito's faces is the trouble they have with removing themselves from the scene. The cop instinct is strong, and the urge to discover answers almost keeps them there.

Javier's phone rings then, prompting the detectives into action. Ryan starts the engine while his partner attempts to secure the seatbelt around the bride-to-be who is clawing at the locked door to be let out. Esposito silences the shrill ringing with a push of the answer button, and Ryan glances up from concentrating at the road when the voice of Lanie Parish on the other end is loud enough for even him to hear.

"Slow down chica." Espo's calming voice seems to do the trick and although the ME's voice is still emotional enough to be heard, Ryan can no longer discern details.

After ending the call, Javi glances at Beckett then leans forward between the front seats to speak to Ryan in a low but urgent tone. "Bro, that was Lanie. We need to get back as fast as we can."

* * *

_A/N: So there we have it. I know it's short, but as an introduction to the fic, it just seemed to right place to finish the chapter. The following chapters will be longer._

_I think this is going to be the most challenging fic I've ever had to write, and hopefully it will help me grow as a writer. So any feedback and suggestions are welcome!_

_Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!_


	2. Chapter 2

The scene as they pull up in front of Castle's Hampton's house is, if possible, even more devastating than Rick's burning car. The wedding guests are milling around outside, shock and fear evident on their faces. The only relatively calm people are Captain Gates and Lanie. The former tries to bring about some order and usher people away from the house. She holds the guest list in her hand, obviously intent on checking who is present. Lanie moves from person to person, attempting to calm, and assessing for injuries. It seems that the majority of congregated crowd are lucky, and present no physical harm. That is more than can be said for the house before them. Flames are present at this scene too, only this time blazing within the second floor of the building. Debris litters the ground; windows have shattered, and there's a partial collapse of the wall at the front of the building.

Almost before the car has stopped, Esposito makes a beeline for his on-again, off-again girlfriend. Lanie releases a sob of fear and clings to the detective within the comfort of his embrace. "What happened, chica?"

"There was some sort of explosion," she gestures in the direction of the once grand house before grasping once more at Javier's suit jacket. "I… I don't know what happened; there was a loud bang and the place sort of shook. But there was so much confusion and everyone was so scared."

"Anyone hurt?"

"Minor injuries mostly, as far as I can tell. Captain Gates has taken charge."

He nods and draws her close to him again, taking a moment to calm himself after their near-miss, before seeking out his boss.

* * *

In contrast to Esposito, Kate exits the car much more slowly. She is almost in a dreamlike state; the noises of the fire crew, the nervous babble of the nearly three hundred guests, the desperate shouts of Ryan calling for his wife and daughter, all blurs into a mess of sound. Everything seems to pass in her vision in a disjointed haze, and all she can focus on is the orange flickering glow of the fire consuming Castle's beautiful holiday home. She doesn't know the layout of the building well enough to take a guess at the rooms from which the flames emanate, but whichever the rooms, the blaze is destroying the beautiful interiors of which Castle is so proud.

Seeing her friend standing in shocked confusion, Lanie disentangles herself from Esposito and rushes over, pulling the detective into a tight hug. The contact seems to bring Beckett a little focus, and she finally takes in the details of the carnage from over Lanie's shoulder.

"What happened?" "How's Castle?" they ask together.

Kate shakes her head, pressing her lips together in a futile attempt to ward off further tears.

Lanie takes this as her queue, and holds the detective's hands tightly as she begins. "There was an explosion Kate." The ME's voice is much more controlled than when she had sobbed the meagre details to Esposito; the need to be strong for her friend steadies her emotions and forces her to be calm so as not to alarm Kate more than would the words alone. "Captain Gates will know more; she's liaising with the fire department and making sure everyone's present."

"Wha- Why?" Kate eventually uttered in a strangled voice, her confusion turning to utter bewilderment.

"I don't know, sweetie."

Doctor Parish is reluctantly drawn away then, rushing to the side of a young woman, someone whom Castle knows from Black Pawn. A late-comer to the congregation, she had been round the front of the house and had received a wound to her forehead, caused by debris from the explosion.

So Kate is left alone once more. During the time in which she was speaking to Lanie, the scene has become slightly less chaotic. Gates has miraculously succeeded in herding nearly all the guests round to the back of the property where the wedding was meant to take place. The only reason any of them had ventured from the lawn was simple human curiosity. Kate supposes she should be thankful that the explosion occurred at the front of the house while the majority of the guests were situated in the vast lawn at the rear. However, with her fiancé in unknown straits, she cannot even begin to take anything positive from the situation.

With the hubbub of the guests removed, Kate can take in the actions of the fire department. The flames appear as if they are easy enough to control. Soon enough, the water from the hoses succeeds in extinguishing the fire the charred remains of the second floor are finally revealed. She feels a pang as she takes in the damage. She briefly wonders how, with her panic over her Castle, she still has emotion enough to feel sadness over a mere building.

Her attention is drawn away then. A figure hurries from the side of the house, looking this way and that, desperation written on a panicked face. It doesn't take long for Kate to determine that the figure is Jenny Ryan, and her tiny daughter is held tightly against her.

Kevin up until that moment has been engaged in a panicked sweep of the grounds. He rounds the building from the opposite side to his wife. Upon spotting her, he picks up speed and dashes across the length of the grand house. The detective scoops up the infant in one arm, and brings his wife against him with another. While the baby has no idea what is occurring, the relief of the adults is palpable as they stand in their own bubble of their family, with the knowledge that each of them are safe and together.

Kate watches the reunion with a mixture of relief and jealousy. What she wouldn't give for Castle to appear now. She closes her eyes and can almost see him; his large frame advancing towards her, his trademark soft, almost mischievous smile upon his lips, and his strong arms held out to her. She would eagerly run to meet him halfway, he would surround her with his body, and they would embrace each other as tight as they possibly could.

Reality cruelly draws her back from her fantasy and she snaps her eyes open upon hearing her name. The voice is male and oh so familiar. She whirls around and tears immediately blur her vision as she takes in the man before her. "Dad!" And then she's enveloped within his arms.

"What happened Katie?" he asks gently, tears filling his own eyes upon seeing how distraught his daughter is.

She pulls away a little, roughly wiping at her cheeks and paying no heed to the makeup she has smudged. It's as if she's trying to be strong, still, even though no one would expect her to be. "There was an accident. The car was in a ditch… On fire… So much fire… It's Castle's car!" And the tenuous grasp she only just managed to get over her emotions breaks. A rough sob is released and she covers her face with her hands as if trying to hide from the reality her words hold.

"You sure it's his car?"

"It's my job Dad," she releases on another sob, her whole being beginning to heave with the force of her emotions being released. "Taking in details like that is ingrained in me… I- I'm sure." There is no anger in her tone, only a deepening realisation, a solidifying of facts, a lessening of the shocked haze which had overtaken her upon receiving the phone call about the discovery of the car.

"But how's Richard, Katie?"

"I don't know," she whispers. A fresh wave of tears overwhelms her as she comes to the realisation that she truly doesn't know. As cruel and stark comprehension begins to creep in as to what it could all mean. Ryan and Esposito had spoken to the officers at the scene; at that point, no one was even sure whether anyone was in the car. But the fact is, it doesn't look hopeful. Castle is missing. Kate rang his mobile repeatedly, each time with increasing desperation, on both journeys to and from the accident site. But each time she heard his voice, it only was the formal tone of his voice mail message.

"Kate…" A soft, tentative voice, so unlike Lanie's usual sassy demeanour, catches Beckett's attention.

She stares wordlessly with trembling lips and wringing hands, immediately fearing the worst.

Immediately fearing news about her fiancé.

"Captain Gates is almost done making sure everyone is accounted for. But as far as she can tell…" she trails off and looks at her friend uncertainly.

"Lanie! Please!"

"Kate, as far as she can tell, Alexis and Martha are the only two missing."

A strangled sob is released from the detective and she is immediately pulled into another tight hug. "Oh girl, I'm so sorry."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has followed/favourited this fic. And thank you for the kind reviews of the last chapter - I'll try and reply to you all. _


	3. Chapter 3

The wind has picked up considerably. The morning was sunny, warm, with the faintest hint of a breeze. Small, fluffy, candy floss clouds scattered the sky, sunlight glinting from their edges. The perfect day to be married.

Now, the weather seems to be cluing into Kate's mood. The wind whips through the trees, barely seeming to abate and so the area is constantly filled with the rustling of leaves and creaking of branches. It sweeps through the practical ponytail she scrapped her hair into earlier, creating knots and tangles to which she hardly pays any heed. Now, grey clouds fills the sky in the distance, slowly building and drawing closer, gradually darkening the area in which she stands.

The wind matches the torrents that are her thoughts; panic and worry of being Kate the fiancé, coupled with the unanswered questions constantly tormenting her which come with being Detective Beckett. The clouds, though she so desperately hopes not, seem foreshadowing, bearing the downpour just as the Hamptons PD may bring devastating information to Kate.

And while the weather continues to pick up, and the first spots of rain fall upon the dry landscape, Beckett repeatedly presses the speed dial on her phone, bringing it to her ear to listen to the same message over and over again. She has only a vain hope that the call will be answered, yet she still jolts with the beep of the answerphone. No, she just needs to hear his voice, despite the bustle of the trees making listening difficult.

She wonders why he changed his answerphone message. It used to contain a joke, making her smile with fondness. Now it is formal and perfunctory; there is little hint of the true personality of her fiancé. Still, she keeps listening, needing to hear the cadence of his speech, and praying this will not be the last thing she hears him say.

She wishes she'd kept some of the messages he frequently left for her on her own phone. When he was home alone, writing (procrastinating) and using her to seek a distraction, he would often phone her for a quick chat. When her phone was off, he could leave her a message, something guaranteed to make her smile or laugh, or occasionally squeak with indignation.

She smiles now as she recalls some of them. His most recent one, a week previously, had succeeded in making her blush and squirm. She was at the precinct. Having finished a meeting with Gates, she returned to her desk to discover a voicemail from her fiancé. The content was such that she had to glance surreptitiously around to bullpen in fear that one of her colleagues had seen the red tinge to her cheeks. Still, it was worth it. He'd swept her up almost immediately upon her return to the loft, and made good on his breathy promise of mind-blowing sex in a candlelit bath full of cherry scented bubbles.

Inevitably, regrettably, her mind refocuses back on the present. And as her detective's mind is oft to do, she runs through the previous few hours. It was hard to believe that she had been on the phone to Castle that morning, speaking softly and serenely, sharing intimate words of love. And then everything had changed, and much like the storm now encompassing the Hamptons area, none of them had seen it coming.

There is frustratingly little to go on so far. The last she heard, the local fire department had only just extinguished the fire in and around the car; the dry vegetation had caused the blaze to spread considerably quicker than anticipated. As a result, the Hamptons PD is only just surveying the wreckage. The other half of the stretched fire crew is working on stabilising the Castles' holiday house, before investigators could start work assessing the scene.

As a result, Kate is a vibrating nervous wreck. The lack of news makes her antsy, and she can hardly be blamed for thinking the worst. She is frustrated that she is unable to lend any help to either investigation (not that anyone knows what exactly there is to investigate at the moment), and at the same time she is aware that she probably wouldn't be much help anyway. She alternates between anger (at the lack of information, at the destruction of what should have been a perfect culmination of six years of developing relationship, at the world in general), and pure, blinding panic.

She has no clear direction for her anger, and as a result lashes out at the authorities and those around her. Gates, the boys, Jenny, Lanie, her father and Aunt Theresa have set up camp at a hotel in the centre of the town. The other guests have made their way home after being interviewed by the cops. Along with Castle, Martha and Alexis are still unaccounted for.

Her family and precinct family have in turned tried to calm her, but all they can offer is hollow platitudes, and she barely restrains herself from blowing up at them. She needed to escape the hotel. And that's how she ended up outside in the midst of a building storm.

And then the deluge starts. She's standing out in full exposure, drenched in a matter of seconds. But she can't bring herself to care. It's refreshing actually, or more accurately distracting. The fat droplets pound down on her skull, slide over, under and between the strands of her hair, run over skin, soak into clothes. And she's soon shivering. But still she stands unmoving, simply allowing nature to hide her tears and disguise the shaking of her shoulders.

It's cathartic, in a way, mesmerising. Her mind wanders and soon, as rainstorms tend to provoke nowadays, she's back to that night two years ago. Her memory begins at the swings, their swings, where she sat on the wet seat, gripping the slippery cold of the chains with her whitened fingers. She fought with herself, tried reasoning either way. All she had to do was look at the empty swing next to her and she realised she couldn't leave that swing empty of him. And finally she was at his door. She recalls the brief moment of panic as he recoiled from the first press of her lips to his, how he pushed her away. His eyes held such sadness, and so did hers, only hers were tinged with hope. She apologised and he seemed to understand her, despite the paucity of her words. And they'd made love, tender, passionate love, with the window cracked so the sounds of the rain pounding against every surface outside reached them. They couldn't seem to get close enough. And afterwards, sated and exhausted, they still clung to each other even in sleep.

"Kate!"

Again, devastatingly, she's pulled from a memory. This time it's Lanie, manhandling her towards the hotel, ignoring her friend's protests. She demands to know why Kate is acting like she is, asking if she's lost her mind, telling her she's going to make herself ill. But the detective doesn't reply. She's frantically trying to claw back to the memory and hide from the reality she's not ready to face, doesn't think she'll ever be ready to face. And she just desperately hopes that memories are not going to be the only solace in her future.

* * *

_A/N: Firstly, thank you to all the wonderful people who had read, favourited, followed and reviewed this story so far. It really does mean a lot._

_Secondly, I'm so sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I was away on a fieldtrip and then ill. Additionally, I realise emotional depth is something which my writing lacks; I've been repeatedly editing and reviewing the chapter to make it as good as I can. Any pointers would be most welcome!_


	4. Chapter 4

After the fires were extinguished, initial reports came in fast. Both phone calls came within half an hour of one another.

A body was found in the driver's side of the burnt Mercedes.

And two bodies were found in the gutted room of Castle's second home.

Castle, Martha and Alexis are still missing.

Everyone is gathered in one of the hotel rooms which have been booked for the foreseeable future. On one side of the double bed, Lanie and Jenny anchor Kate, one on either side of her, gripping her hands. They murmur gentle, calming words to her, pacing her breathing each time the panic grips and her ribcage rises and falls with worrying rapidity.

On the sofa opposite the end of the bed, Kate's Aunt Theresa watches over little Sarah-Grace who is asleep and oblivious to the emotional strife in the room. Sitting next to his sister and the baby, Jim watches on at a loss as to what to do. His relationship with his daughter has never fully recovered since Johanna's murder, his resulting alcoholism, and Kate's steadfast and at times plain dangerous fight for justice. As a result, whilst she occasionally seeks him out for advice, she doesn't turn to him for comfort, not even after she was shot. So he lets her friends take the lead in absorbing her emotions. He just prays with all his has that his little girl isn't faced with another tragedy. Since Richard Castle crashed into her life, Jim has seen Kate grow so much into a happy, content person. She carries out her police work with as much diligence and dedication as she always has, but now she has someone to stand by her in both a professional and personal sense. He fears so much that if the worst is to happen, Kate will revert back to being the closed-off, lonely woman she used to be.

Ryan, Esposito and Gates sit together in a corner of the room, glancing occasionally across at the bride-to-be. The trio discuss their plan of action. It has already been decided that they will assist Chief Brady and his team. However, it is getting dark and it is then that news comes in that CSU have stopped for the day in both locations.

"Come on girl, let's get you to bed." It's Lanie who speaks, and together, she and Jenny steer a barely responsive Kate out of one room and into another. With the house closed off with damage and CSU combing it, Kate is dressed in a pair of trousers and a soft cotton top which Jenny had run out to buy from a shop in the town centre; it was too cruel to expect her to sit around in her wedding dress. Lanie deems the clothes comfortable enough for her to sleep in and so she merely encourages the detective to slip between the sheets. "I'm only next door sweetie, so you come get me if you need me."

Once alone, Kate finally allows the tears to escape. She should be with Rick now; they should be consummating their wedding surrounded by the romantic flickering glow of candles. But the imagined scene of them cuddling in soft sheets before a warming fireplace is replaced by the very real memory of the flames engulfing his car.

The pain is inexplicable. She alternates between periods of panic and crippling anxiety, and periods of numbness. And part of her is back in the alley, over 10 years ago, when she was just 19 year old Katie. Now she's 34 year old Detective Beckett, NYPD. But again she feels like that bewildered little girl.

* * *

The next morning, and now 21 hours since the nightmare started, Kate is back in what has been designated their main gathering room, sitting silently on the sofa. The lack of action has been an odd departure for her; normally she is eager to be in the thick of any investigation. But the only information they have so far received triggered panic which in turn prompted a numbness and vague disassociation from her surroundings. However, now, movement in the corner of the room provokes a response from Beckett. She determines that Esposito and Ryan are about to head out to the crash scene and lend support to Chief Brady's team.

"I'm coming with you."

"Detective-"

"No, Sir. If Castle is- If Castle was in the car, I need to find out what happened. And if by some miracle he wasn't, then my fiancé is missing, and there may be answers there."

* * *

The ride to the crash site is spent in relative silence. Ryan drives with Esposito beside him. Kate sits in the back of the car, alone with her thoughts. It occurs to her that she and Castle should be on the way to their honeymoon by now.

The second they booked their holiday on the private island (an island which Castle had not visited with any of his previous ex-wives), she was caught up in excitement. Castle told her she was cute, a comment to which she scowled. However, it did not dent her giddiness. Three whole weeks with Castle! Alone! No body drops, no family, no publishers or agents. Just three weeks of getting to know each other as a married couple whilst they explore their beautiful surroundings.

She imagines they would be all over each other as soon as they arrive at their destination. Castle would insist on carrying her over the threshold of the villa (not that she would begrudge him this; she feels a secret thrill each time she's caught up against his solid chest and in his strong arms). They would spend the days sight-seeing, talking, joking and teasing, and of course, making love. They would set aside time for skinny dipping too; a dead body in the pool rather put a dampener on the plans the last time it had been attempted. They would learn more about each other, share secrets and dreams and fears. And they would return to New York stronger as a couple, and all the more enamoured with each other.

Pulling herself reluctantly from the cushioning pleasantness of her fantasy, she is faced with the harsh reality of Ryan and Esposito surveying Castle's rental car, alongside the team from the Hamptons.

She is at first reluctant to step foot near the wreckage, knowing it might be where he spent his last moments. But she takes a stealing breath. It is not that she doesn't trust the officers, it is that she needs to see for herself, to have some part in determining what happened to her fiancé. After everything he's done for her, she owes him that much, at least. And besides, he would want to know the story.

"Detective Beckett," Chief Brady greets her once she has scrabbled down into the ditch to stand on the charred grass. The area is still damp from the efforts of the fire crew the previous day. With flames no longer ravaging the wreckage, Kate can see the crumpled front end where the vehicle hit the base of the ditch. The rest of the car rests on the slope, elevating the back slightly higher than the front.

"What have you discovered?" she asks in her most professional voice, fighting down the clamour of emotions within her.

"So far we've ascertained it was no accident. Tyre marks on the road indicate two vehicles were present; it looks as though Mr Castle's car was forced off the road."

She nods at the information, pushing down the horror at confirmation that someone deliberately set out to hurt Rick. Instead, she stays in detective mode, taking time to survey the wreckage and looking for anything out of the ordinary. There is, however, very little to see. The area surrounding the car is scorched but free from any clues as to the perpetrator. This too is the same for the interior of the vehicle; upholstery is incinerated, metal is blackened and plastic has melted and reformed into grotesque shapes, but there is no indication of who caused the accident. On her second turn round the scene, she is stopped by a woman identifying herself to be from CSU.

"We've still determining for certain the cause of the fire, however, I would say it's deliberate." She leads Kate around to the front of the car. "Most accidental vehicle fires start in the engine area, but as you can see here, the front portion of the car is considerably less fire damaged than the rest. I would say that the fire started elsewhere and eventually spread to the engine, where it did less damage as it was alight for a shorter period."

With this extra evidence, the pressure builds ever more, constricting her throat and preventing her from doing little more than a nod to thank the CSU investigator. The information has served to make it all the more real; she can now picture the scenario of the car being forced off the road, and then set alight by some shadowy figure. Flames lick over the vehicle and she can picture a figure in the driver's seat; the build, the hairstyle- The abruptly turns away and forces herself to take great gulping lungfuls of air. But the acrid smell is getting to her, stifling her breathing. She feels trapped, yet she is out in the open. She can't help but glance back at the driver's side of the car, at the crushed in dashboard, the twisted metal of the doorframe, and the blackened shred of seat material. Constantly it runs through her mind that Castle may have spent his last moments in this wreck.

"Detective."

She jumps when Chief Brady appears in front of her, prompting her to suck in an involuntarily deep breath. "Yes?" she manages to choke out, forcing herself to slow the exhale.

"We have Mr Kory Sinclair back at the station. He's the guy who called in the accident. One of my officers interviewed him last night but I assumed you'd want to speak with him yourself."

"Yes," she utters shakily, despite herself. However, focussing on Brady is a sufficient enough to fade the imagined horror behind her eyes. "Thank you."

"We've also had the initial findings back from CSU about the bomb." Esposito and Ryan pause at hearing this and gather round to listen. "There were remains of an explosive device. But there was no shrapnel, meaning-"

"Meaning the device was designed to cause only a small explosion," Kate, wide-eyed, finishes for him. "So if small scale damage was the intention, rather than a blast which would have taken out half the guests… Couple this with the fact that the guests were at the back of the property while the explosion originated from one of the front rooms… It's likely Martha and Alexis were the targets." If they are indeed the victims, she finishes silently. There is no need to voice this out loud. Everyone is hoping that the two will be found alive and well eventually. Yet at the same time no one is voicing that their hope is based on nothing but sheer desperation.

* * *

At the station, Kate enters the interview room to find the witness and the officer who had questioned him the night before. "Mr Sinclair, I'm Detective Kate Beckett with the NYPD. I understand you saw the car accident on Route 114 yesterday and called it in."

"That's correct, Detective."

She uncaps her pen and places it poised above the pad of paper before her. "Can you tell me what happened?"

He outlines his journey from the town centre along the road, stating that he stopped when he saw flames licking out from the ditch and smoke billowing up around the trees. He ran over, saw it was a car on fire and immediately dialled 911. He is regretful when he tells Kate the flames were too great for him to ascertain whether anyone was in the vehicle and attempt a rescue.

"Did you see anything in the area? Any people? Vehicles?"

He's silent a moment then his eyes widen; Kate leans forward a little at this, knowing he has recollected something. "It didn't occur to me until now because I was so shocked at seeing the wreckage, you know." Kate nods and he continues. "But before I came across the accident, a black SUV passed me, you know the really imposing type in spy movies with the blacked out windows. I remember thinking it seemed odd, you know, in the Hamptons. We don't get many cars like that around here."

"And in which direction was it headed?"

"Away from the crash, back towards town."

"And I don't suppose you got a number plate?"

"No, but I noticed they were Washington D.C. plates; I only remember that because I figured FBI or CIA or something."

She notes down the information about the capital, but not the second part; speculation from an overactive imagination is not needed. "Anything else?"

"Erm… Oh yeah. There were scratches and a bit of a dent. Not sure which side, right maybe, near the front. I figured if the government won't give its spies a good car, what hope is there for the rest of us, you know."

"Thank you, Mr Sinclair. You've been very helpful." Purported links to the CIA or FBI aside, the information is their first lead. Once away from the witness, she instructs Chief Brady to circulate the description of a black SUV with Washington plates and signs of damage on the front right side. "Let's circulate it around the Hamptons, and the wider Tri-state area and also Pennsylvania. Depending on how professional this guy is, it's likely he's either changed plates and repaired the car, or ditched it entirely. However, it's our best lead so let's run with it." She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, thinking about just how much time has been lost. "Why didn't Sinclair tell us about the car when he was interviewed last night? We've lost _hours_."

The officer who conducted the initial interview wears an expression of pure guilt and Chief Brady looks grim. As an outward indication of her frustration, Kate runs her hand again through her hair, though she decides pulling the officer up on his interrogation technique is really not a good use of her time right now. Instead she'll oversee the dissemination of the car details to the respective police departments. There is little else for her to do as they are awaiting the completion of the CSU reports, and feedback from the officers canvassing the local area.

Despite the delay, the information is still a much needed lead. However, she doesn't feel the satisfaction and anticipation as she normally would do at a breakthrough. All she feels is the self-imposed numbness, and the suppressed panic clawing to be released.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the massive delay in posting this update. I have moved house and as yet have no internet access, so updates will continue to be a little spotty for the future. However, the next few chapters are largely complete so when I do get access again, I'll be sure to post them._

_Regarding Kate's current age - I watch 'Castle' on Amazon, and as I have internet access, I wasn't able to hunt through episodes to find out her end of Series 6 age, so I just had to guess. If anyone can correct me on her age, it would be appreciated!_

_Finally, thank you so much for all the favourites, follows, reviews, and to everyone reading this!_


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone is feeling the strain. Chief Brady and his team, along with the Hamptons CSU are doing a fantastic job with both crime scenes, especially given they are unused to dealing with such serious crimes, let alone two at the same time. Aside from the poorly conducted interview with the man who called the car fire in, the Hamptons PD are running a smooth operation: canvassing of the town is continuing; the details of the SUV are being circulated as per Beckett's instructions; and details of the CSU's finds are being collated. Some of the officers are running on no sleep after being called in to investigate when both incidents occurred the previous afternoon.

Feeling even more pressure, however, are those from the NYPD. Esposito and Ryan are plagued with worry about their good friend. They feel the same concern about Martha and Alexis. Despite not knowing them all that well, Castle's family have always been welcome at the precinct. Even Gates is showing cracks in her iron demeanour as she helps Chief Brady run the case, coordinate resources and amalgamate what information the team have uncovered thus far.

The person really feeling the strain is understandably Kate. At times, she barely holds it together. Everyone can see the tears lining her eyes, the worry lines marring her forehead, and the occasions when she just stares into space with such devastation on her expression. She's not sure she's going to survive intact. If she was broken before Castle came barrelling into her life and helped her tear down her walls, if the worst happens, she's sure to be destroyed. But she forces herself to carry on; falling apart from bring her fiancé back.

Currently, Beckett and Chief Brady are on their way to a bar on the south side of the town. The officers who were canvassing the area spoke to the owners of the establishment, and felt that there was information important enough to be investigated by their superiors. Meanwhile, Ryan and Esposito are speaking to the CSU team who analysed the bombed portion of Castle's house. Gates is overseeing the activity at Hamptons PD's station, and is even lending a hand with collating the information collected by the two CSU teams and the canvassing officers.

The pub that Kate and Brady enter gives off the vibe of a relaxed and friendly establishment with its dark wooden bar, tables and chairs, brass fittings, pool table in an alcove, and dim corners in which to sit for a little more privacy. The owners who greet them are a married couple in their mid-fifties, obviously hoping their business will carry them into a comfortable retirement. They lead the detective and the chief into the back office and gesture them to sit upon a long leather sofa. The couple in turn perch on a cluttered desk opposite.

Chief Brady speaks first, asking them to go over the information they told the canvassing officers.

"It was the other night, Friday," the woman, Patricia starts. "There were three people who caught our attention."

"Two men and a woman," her husband adds.

"They weren't locals; not the seasonal lot, nor the ones who live here year round. And they didn't seem like tourists."

"They were very serious, talking very heatedly. But whenever Pat or I went near, they went dead silent."

"Like they didn't want us to hear what they were saying."

John nods. "And they were dressed pretty formally; all suits and ties."

"Not the sort of comfortable clothes people who usually come to our pub wear."

The way the couple finish each other's sentences and add information seamlessly to the other's points reminds Kate of her and Castle building theory. She fights down the pang this causes as she questions the pair. "Did you hear anything at all that they said?"

"Not much," Patricia looks regretful. "Just that they needed to 'stick to the plan'; whatever that means. The woman noticed me then and they shut up pretty quickly."

"And was there anyone else working that night who may have heard them? Any customers sitting nearby perhaps?"

Again the answer is a negative. The member of staff who was meant to be working on Friday was ill, and the trio secluded themselves in a corner, well away from the other patrons.

Kate then pulls out the descriptions they gave to the uniformed officer earlier that day. They read as fairly generic depictions; two men with short dark hair, one at least six foot who looked to be in his fifties, and the other slightly smaller and younger. The woman is described as around five and a half foot with chin-length, honey coloured hair. Her age is estimated as anywhere from mid-thirties to mid-forties.

"Anything else you can think of? Any distinctive features? Scars, tattoos?"

Patricia and John both apologetically shake their heads. Kate forces a smile as she and Chief Brady shake the couple's hands and depart. The information provides another lead, but there is very little chance of ever identifying who the apparently shady trio are. And as for the 'plan', this provides no clues. For all Kate knows, they may have become lost on the way to a business meeting (hence the smart clothes) and settled in the pub to quench their thirst. The plan may have merely regarded the route they were taking to their destination. The people, and the plan, may have absolutely nothing to do with the car fire, the bomb, and Castle's, Martha's and Alexis' disappearances.

In the face of all that, it is a battle for Kate to rally herself when Chief Brady ends a phone call and tells her the officers canvassing the vicinity of Castle's house spoke to a resident who noticed something 'strange'.

* * *

The person they speak to next is a woman in her early sixties who owns the opulent property next to Castle's. Despite the grounds of both properties being so large as to create considerable distance between the houses, the woman was nevertheless able to discern what she now believes to be an unusual occurrence.

"So you saw three people hanging around for some time outside Richard Castle's house on Friday afternoon?" Kate clarifies from the notes the officer had created. She and Chief Brady are standing within a room which could have come straight from the pages of _Ideal Home_; it is that pristine and well-designed.

Loretta nods, gesturing out of the bay window of her living room where is there is an unobstructed view of Rick's house. The damage to the second storey front room is stark in comparison to the immaculate buildings in the affluent neighbourhood, and the yellow crime scene tape stands out harshly. Kate has to avert her eyes and look further down the road.

"They stood outside the front for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, taking notes and then they went around the side of the house." She wrings her hands in an expression of distress. "I honestly did think they were realtors; they were dressed very smartly."

"You weren't to know any different," Kate reassures the older woman, seeing the guilt on her features. She then proceeds to garner a description of the people (two men and a woman) and the result is the same as the account given by the bar owners; the only addition is that they were wearing sunglasses.

"Do you think they were responsible for the terrible explosion?" she asks, her expression becoming increasingly distressed. Kate moves her away from the window and the view of the crime scene, and sits her down. She is in full Detective Beckett mode as placates the woman.

"Anyone would have thought the same as you did. And perhaps they have no involvement with the incident. But we need to follow every possible line of information. So I do need to ask you a few more questions. Do you think you can answer them for me?"

A little calmer, the woman nods.

"Thank you. Now, do you remember seeing any vehicles outside when the three people were present?"

"There was George's Mercedes; he lives across the road. And Harriet, the other side of Mr Castle's house pulled into her drive."

Kate knows that the officers have already spoken to Harriet who was unable to provide any relevant information. "So no other cars parked on the road?"

"None that I noticed. A few cars maybe drove past but I couldn't tell you what they were."

"That's fine," Beckett continues to reassure and makes a couple of notes. "Did you see when they left and in which direction they went?"

Loretta shakes her head, "My son telephoned just after they went around the side of the house so I stopped watching."

"Alright," Kate stands and smiles, despite feeling like doing anything but. "You've been a great help Loretta, thank you."

* * *

It is early evening by the time the team reconvenes in the hotel room. Esposito has managed to procure a whiteboard from a meeting room in the hotel. It's just a crime board, Beckett tells herself resolutely as she inks in details and evidence; it's not a murder board, not yet, hopefully not ever.

Still, she can't help the ever present fear from creeping in more and more to her thoughts. It is now twenty eight hours since she received the phone call about the accident. And it is still longer since she last saw Castle. She misses him desperately. His book tours had kept them apart for greater lengths of time since their relationship developed into more, but she was always safe in the knowledge that he would return to her.

Her thoughts turn to Martha who has become an almost mother-like figure to her. Eccentric she may be, but the actress has oftentimes acted as an impartial sounding board during some of the rougher patches of Kate's and Rick's relationship. She raises a hand and traces it around the one of the earrings Castle's mother gave her the previous day. It was such a heartfelt gesture and really helped banish any doubts Kate had about her place in the wider Castle family.

And then there's Alexis. Sure, Kate's relationship with the girl hasn't always been easy; Alexis is fiercely protective of her father (a trait which Kate respects) which has at times led her to see Kate as an enemy. But she cares about Castle's daughter. Although she had to be strong for her partner and so she didn't show it, when Alexis was kidnapped and taken to Paris, Kate had felt incredible fear for the girl.

Ryan, with his concerned, striking blue eyes, breaks her from her thoughts with a soft cough. "Sorry, Beckett. Just to let you know there have been no hits on the SUV. And canvassing hasn't pinged anymore sightings of those three people."

She thanks him and adds the notes to the board. Despite herself, her heart sinks; the information about the SUV and the suspicious trio, though rather insubstantial, were still their only leads. And now they appear to be dead-ends.

"Any news from CSU?" she addresses this to Esposito, seeing him finish a phone call. As he saunters over to stand with them by the board, she doesn't notice Gates appear at the doorway and beckon Lanie to join her outside.

"Nope. Nothing further than what you were told this morning. They pulled a few finger prints from the less damaged areas of the car, but they belong to Castle and the guys at the rental place." He pauses to turn a page in his notebook at she nods. Castle's fingerprints would have been in the system from the times he was arrested, and the workers would have provided their prints for comparison. "CSU have also dusted for prints across the entirety of Castle's house. However, due to the number of guests and staff organising the, er, the day," he stumbles over not making specific mention of the wedding for Kate just waves him on. "There are a hundreds of prints. They're still running them through the database, but so far, apart from Castle's, they've had no hits."

Kate nods again and is about to add the disappointing results to the whiteboard when Lanie returns from the hallway. She makes a beeline for Kate and leads her to the sofa opposite the bed. The boys turn their attention to the two women, concerned expressions falling on their faces as they take in the Doctor Parish's demeanour. Captain Gates watches on solemnly from the closed doorway.

Lanie, with tears barely contained, sits beside Kate and takes her hands, holding them tightly, as if that would somehow reduce the impact of what she is about to say. "Kate, sweetie, I've had news from the ME."

"No, Lanie," she immediately implores, shaking her head as tears already track down her cheeks and sobs building cloyingly in her throat. "Please, no."

"I'm so sorry, Kate. They've identified the- It was Martha and Alexis in the house."

Kate shakes her head mutely, her shoulders shaking with supressed sobs and her hands gripping onto the equally strong hold of Lanie's fingers.

"Kate," Lanie takes a deep breath and readies herself for the last piece of information. She chokes back her own tears and tilts her head so her watery eyes meet those of her friend. "Kate, it was Castle in the car. I'm so sorry, sweetie, he's gone."

And the detective breaks. A loud, keening sob is released, a piercing, heart-wrenching kind that none of them has heard before. Her mind goes blank and all she can feel is a gaping hole in her life. And it's never going to be again filled with the larger than life man who she loves more than anything. It's the eternity of it that crushes her and sends her folding into herself. She curls up into herself, hugging herself and failing to comprehend a future without Richard Castle. She'll never build theory with him again, she'll never kiss him, make love to him, she'll never spend Sunday mornings curled up warm and sleepy and reading the paper with him, she'll never have another Friday evening with his head hidden behind her shoulder while they watch a horror movie, she'll never again have the opportunity to read the outpouring of love for her in the masterful words of a new Nikki Heat novel. There will be no more smorelets, or him bringing her coffee in the morning, or board game marathons, or strip poker, or crazy theories, or poor jokes, or cuddles.

There will be no more always.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to the two guest reviewers of the previous chapter who I wasn't able to message and thank personally. And thank you to all you lovely people reading this. Would love to know what you think of this chapter!_


	6. Chapter 6

The funeral is, unsurprisingly, a sombre affair. There are three coffins at the head of the procession into the church. Kate and the boys help carry the one bearing Rick. Martha's acting friends lift hers. But it is perhaps the sight of the tear-stained faces of the young adults with Alexis' casket on their shoulders which is the most heart-breaking.

Kate situates herself on the front row of seats within the church, alongside the boys and a man name David; together, the four of them make up Castle's closest friends. Castle first met David in high school, and they soon became firm friends; she has been told that David was an accomplice in the incident regarding a police horse and a lack of clothing. Castle's poker groups are there too of course; Patterson and the other authors sit further back, as do the mayor and the police commissioner. There are also numerous familiar faces from the 12th; despite Castle's unorthodox presence at the precinct, he was a welcome presence, not least because of the state of the art coffee machine with which he gifted them. Gates is there too. She broke when she greeted Kate before the ceremony, admitting that she did hold a soft spot for the author, and shared that sparring with him actually helped relieve some of the tension of her stressful job. Kate can almost hear Castle gloating in her ear at these words; how he managed to be the one to soften Iron Gates. She catches herself before she turns to role her eyes at the imagined form of her fiancé.

Increasing the number of mourners even further, there are a great many people from Martha's distinguished acting career: fellow actors; directors; producers; and even a few stage hands. They all tell her Martha was kind to each and every one of them. And Kate expects no different; she doesn't think she's ever seen Castle's mother act spiteful towards anyone.

A great number of Alexis' classmates from school and college are present, including two particularly tearful girls who had maintained a close friendship as a trio since starting kindergarten. Despite things going awry, Pi is also sat on one of the wooden pews, looking out of place in a smart black suit, complete with a shirt buttoned up to the collar, and neat tie pressing against his neck. And of course, Meredith is there, looking heartbroken with a tear-stained face, and clinging to the hand of her partner.

Anderson Cross (or Jackson Hunt) has not made an appearance, as far as Kate's occasional glances discern. She had wondered if he would resolve to attend the funeral of his family (although this may not be the best word for his ties to them, given his absence and lack of any emotional relationships). It seems he has either not made the effort, or is otherwise engaged in an undercover capacity. And Kate does also wonder if he has other discarded semi-families scattered across the continents.

It is doubtful he has not heard of the death of his son, granddaughter, and one time love. Indeed, with Castle's moderate celebrity status, the nature of the incidents, and their as yet unsolved status, the media has had a frequent hand in the dissemination of the information. It is shocking still, for Kate to turn to the news and see her family's faces staring back at her in relation to their murders. Or when she opens the newspaper and their names are inked in stark lettering along with the paltry evidence. It makes it all the more real to her.

She doesn't want real.

Some say that not knowing is the worst. But she would give anything to be back to those couple of days of ignorance, when she had hope (however fragile). Part of her still believed that Castle would sweep back into her life with his cheeky grin and tell her she wasn't to worry anymore.

Part of her still believes this. She doesn't know why; supposes it is pure denial. But she is sure the funeral will be the event to bring a crushing finality to her future with Richard Castle and his family.

* * *

The packed church falls silent as the priest begins. His words are impersonal, and at points Kate can sometimes believe is she at the funeral of people who held no importance in her life. But then the eulogies begin; the emotions, memories and anecdotes from the speakers shatter the illusion that they are present to mourn anyone other than Martha, Alexis and Richard.

A close friend of Martha's (an actor from one of her touring productions) stands first. He intones a fluent eulogy, his voice carrying with the practised ease of a performer. But his words are no fictional speech. They are clearly heartfelt, describing the vibrant beauty that was Martha Rodgers: she was a wonder to witness performing; she single-handedly brought up the boisterous and charming Richard; and she doted upon, and helped raise, a beautiful grandchild.

Meredith begins the first eulogy for Alexis. Despite her rather unorthodox performance as Alexis' mother, it is clear from her words and from her actions that she deeply loves her daughter. She near enough crumples as her words fade, and her partner rushes forth to bring her back to her seat.

Next to stand are Alexis' two best friends (Kate later learns their names are Sarah and Harriet when she uncharacteristically envelopes them in a tight hug and lets them cry out their grief on her). They describe how smart and kind Alexis was, and include a few stories from her short life. It is strikingly apparent how many wonderful experiences she will never have the chance to live.

The devastated youngsters return to the arms of their friends and family, and now it is Kate's turn. Lanie, sitting behind her, squeezes her shoulder in support. Ryan and Esposito both give her a solemn nod. The bright blue eyes of her Irish colleague are made even brighter by the tears he's failing to hold in. And even Esposito has a streak or two lining his cheeks. How Kate is not a blubbering mess, no one knows. In truth, part of her is detached from the whole proceedings; a part of her doesn't want the finality to register, she doesn't want to wholeheartedly believe in an always without Richard.

However, the words she speaks are heartfelt and true. They are words she has uttered to her father, to Lanie, and to Martha. They are words she has told herself many time when she failed to believe in her luck at finding herself in such a mutually loving relationship. And they are words she has whispered to Rick himself, under the comforting blanket of darkness, and within the embrace of his cradling arms.

"I knew Richard Castle first through his work. His written words helped me in so many ways at a point in my life when I really needed something to cling on to. I'm sure many of you have read his novels and so know how much talent he had. I only began to know the real man behind the media persona when I met him through my work. More accurately, I should say I arrested him," she pauses to allow the chuckles to dissipate. "He showed a great aptitude for police work, and it is no exaggeration to say that a great many people have received closure and answers because of Castle's unique and incredibly intelligent thought process. And when he recited his off the wall theories about the CIA, zombies and ninjas, we loved him all the more for he brought a lightness into what is a tough job." Here she glances at Kevin and Javier, who both wear traces of a fond smile as their remember some of the writer's crazier stories.

"Rick and I became friends first, and gradually we realised we had deeper feelings for each other; although our friends I think knew before we did. We eventually admitted our feelings… Finally…" she pauses and more gentle laughter reverberates within the building. "And we fell into a beautiful relationship. Through Richard I got to know his mother, Martha, and his daughter, Alexis. They were beautiful people. Martha brought such light and happiness into my life, and she carried with her a great deal of wisdom which I believe has helped so many people. And it was a pleasure to witness Alexis make the transition from teenager into a confident and happy young adult, who I have no doubt would have gone far if she had the chance. Rick, I have no doubt, was a boisterous child, but his bond with Martha was strong; it was obvious to anyone that they cared deeply for each other, despite the jokes they may have made. And he excelled as a father, which I think was his finest and most treasured role in life.

"Rick had a hugely generous spirit, along with an incredible enthusiasm for the wonders of this world. His presence brought happiness to my life, a life which was previously stale. He helped me become a better person and I hope I can honour him by continuing to find joy in life. The years I spent with Rick are undoubtedly the happiest of my life. He was taken away from us all before he and I had to chance to publically demonstrate the depth of our relationship through marriage. But I know how strong we were. And I will carry those memories of a wonderful man close to my heart.

"It is a tragedy that the world has lost three wonderful people too soon. But I hope that we will continue to remember Rick, Martha and Alexis, and feel the impact each of them made in our lives."

* * *

The day after is, perhaps oddly, the day that she finally breaks down. Determined to carry on, though feeling numbness all the same, she rises at her usual hour. After washing and dressing, she retrieves the newspaper from outside her door. She is determined to keep up with current affairs and not allow herself to become isolated inside her own bubble of grief.

A few pages in and the paper might as well have sprung arms and literally hit her; the shock and pain are that intense. On the full-page article, a large picture takes up the right centre of the page. Three faces beam back at her, three faces who, two weeks ago, she had been hours away from calling her husband her mother-in-law, and her daughter-in-law.

It had been a strange feeling leading up to the wedding. She was never quite sure whether she was ready to be assimilated into their close-knit, ready-made family; never quite sure if she had the ability to fit in. But she wants it now.

Oh how she wants it.

And she would do everything in her power to make sure she fits in, to make it work.

She continues reading the article with the physical signs of her grief tracking unchecked down her wan cheeks. For a piece about such a private occasion, it is actually rather sensitively written. And it is perhaps this sensitivity which increases the impact on Kate's already fragile emotions. First it mentions Castle's writing, Martha's acting and Alexis' promise as a student. There is a list of the more famous mourners to the funeral, including both Castle's writing contemporaries and poker buddies, and also Martha's fellow actors. There are official statements from Black Pawn, Paula, and Martha's agent, alongside quotes of sadness from a couple of the attendees. Kate recognises the names, but despite being a cop trained in observation, she can't fathom who they were out of the sea of people greeting her with condolences and day before. The article even includes two messages left by fans on Castle's website. The affection for the trio is genuine, and the impact of their absence from the world is more far-reaching than she could have imagined.

Kate is pictured of course; it is a shot from yesterday after the ceremony and burials. She is striding towards one of the awaiting cars and her face is an emotionless mask, betrayed only by a single streak of mascara down her right cheek. It is a visual representation of how utterly detached she was, how she mostly still is.

She is referred to as the fiancée, and the real-life Nikki Heat. Her own mother's murder is outlined. There is speculation as to whether she will be an active part of the investigation to solve the most recent of her personal tragedies.

The details of the case that have thus far been released to the press are outlined: the apparent deliberate nature of the car accident; the small explosion at the house; how no one has yet been arrested. There are statements from both the Hamptons and New York police departments, stating that they are working jointly, but there is nothing further that can be released at this time.

Her shoulders shake more and more as she reads until she can no longer supress her sobs, and they are released with the most heart-breaking noise. But no one comes to her. There is no Castle to gather her up and hold her oh so tight. His fingertips don't come to wipe away the rivers of salty moisture. His lips don't sooth against her own, swallowing the harshness of her sobs until she's merely whimpering against the unwavering support of his chest.

It is truly crushing, the thought that she will no longer experience him. It is the 'forever' part that she can't comprehend. Perhaps she's in denial; most likely. But nevertheless, the pain is immense and she just needs something, anything, to numb it until she can begin to heal (though the prospect of healing seems a foreign concept). She knows by experience that the pain won't fade. She will only learn to deal. And she doesn't want to have to do that again. And perhaps more saliently, she doesn't want to accept that she will never again see, talk to, hear or touch Castle, or read any of his newly typed prose.

She just needs something to make her _forget_. To stop this all-consuming _pain_. Just for a while.

Is that so terrible?

* * *

_A/N: I think the last chapter received more reviews than anything I've ever written - thank you so much everyone! Although I do think a few people were angry at me... However, I feel I've accomplished something if some people were sad enough at the chapter to be mad at me for writing it - I prefer that than people being bored! One or two people were also suggesting I was trying to kill you all - homicide through my writing is not my intention, I assure you!_

_Anyway, thanks to everyone reading. Would love to know what you thought of this chapter!_


	7. Chapter 7

She wakes with a pounding head. It takes her a few disorientating moments for her to ascertain her position; it seems she is fully clothed in her jeans and loose-fitting blouse from the day before, and not only did she not change for sleep, she didn't even make it to bed. With some abhorrence, she realises she is slumped in front of her couch, her back resting against it, and her legs splayed at odd angles before her. There are three empty bottles of wine in her eye-line, and her glass lays smashed inches to her right. She has no recollection of that occurring, and is thankfully she didn't collapse onto the shards during her slumber. That's not to say she feels fine, however. The night on the floor has left her stiff. Couple this with the fact that the room seems to spin, and a queasiness in her stomach intensifies as she moves, and she's feeling pretty retched indeed.

With a gargantuan effort she hauls herself upright, and shuffles and sways on unsteady feet into the kitchen. Her fingers dance over her coffee mug, but she withdraws them quickly and settles instead on a tall glass which she fills to the brim with cold water. She sips the refreshing liquid en-route to the bathroom. With sluggish movements, she deposits her now crumpled clothes into the hamper and hauls herself beneath a scalding shower. The hot water brings a certain clarity to her being. To put it mildly, she's disgusted in herself. And she knows Castle would be too. And she has followed exactly in her father's footsteps, despite all those nights cleaning up after him, all those mornings urging him out of bed so he didn't lose his job, and all those weekends trying to engage him in conversation when all he did was stare bleary-eyed at the television. She saw first-hand that turning to alcohol did nothing to assuage the man's grief at the loss of his wife.

After shutting the shower off and wrapping herself in a fluffy towel, she pads into her kitchen, leaving damp footprints in her wake. There only a few bottles of alcohol within her apartment, but in a fit of self-loathing, she sweeps them all up and empties them down the sink. She won't allow herself to succumb to the same self-destruction as her father. She won't let Castle down…

At least, she won't let him down any more than she has already.

* * *

There is an uncharacteristic nervousness to her demeanour as she travels the familiar route across the city to the Twelfth Precinct. It has been two and a half weeks since she last stepped foot inside this building. Two and a half weeks ago, Castle was still alive. Two and a half weeks ago, Castle and she left together to get their marriage license. Two and a half weeks ago, she was giddy about their imminent nuptials with no inclination that in only three days, her happiness would be cruelly ripped from her.

After the failed wedding day, she was in the Hamptons for a whole week. She went over all the reports from the canvassing officers, the interviews with the guests at the wedding (none of whom say anything untoward), the supposed sightings of the SUV (all of which turned out to be false alarms), and revisited both crime scenes numerous times to obsessively check for evidence CSU may have missed (of which she found none). After a week, the medical examiner's reports were completed and the bodies were released. She sequestered herself in her hotel room for the night and began the harrowing task of studying the reports. She barely made it through the first page of Martha's before she had to put it aside as she was consumed with desperate, wracking sobs. It was a good half an hour before she had pulled herself together enough to begin an initial read-through of all three files. Tears still tracked steadily down her cheeks made wan and pale by a week of grief, but she sucked in fortifying breaths and made it through. The only vague comfort she could glean was that Martha and Alexis likely knew nothing about the explosion, and Castle had been knocked unconscious upon impact before succumbing to smoke inhalation. It was only after he had passed that the flames reached him and ravaged his body.

The second, third and fourth analyses of the papers were when she began to truly take in details. The reports were concise, but there was nothing that could aid in solving the murders of her family. At her request, the pictures had been removed from the files before being presented to her; Captain Gates had selflessly volunteered to be the one to view the charred remains earlier that week, and advised Kate that she would gain nothing by bearing witness herself.

With the bodies released and no new evidence to add to the cases, she returned to New York and focussed on organising the funeral. She was determined to do Castle, Martha and Alexis justice; to do her best to honour their memories in a fitting and sensitive manner. In truth, throwing herself into the preparations kept her exhausted enough to actually grab a few hours' of sleep at the end of the day, and busy enough to keep the reality and thus the grief at bay. Now, with the funeral over, and with her moment of weakness pushed behind her, she is fully prepared to throw herself into the investigation; she will do Castle proud and uncover the story.

It is with this mind-set that she squares her shoulders and sets her features as she steps into the elevator which will take her up to the homicide floor. But she is unprepared for the barrage of memories that assault her.

Castle and Beckett's lives were so intrinsically linked by the work she does here. So many of their best (and worst) moments, so many of the beautiful everyday moments, were played out in this very building. They rode the elevator together more times than she can count. In the very early days of their partnership (when she would never have dreamed of calling it as such) he had spent the journey with an arsenal of words with which to irritate her, and she fired them back to show she had the upper hand. She then strode out the open doors before him, swaying her hips just a little as she stepped to her desk, knowing her was watching her. Gradually, their rides in the lift became more amicable and less fraught with trying to outdo each other, until eventually they began to use the final moments of seclusion to share moments filled with a completely different type of tension.

"Beckett! What are you doing here?" Espo's call thankfully temporarily halts the flood of memories that assault her when she steps into the bullpen. Unfortunately, however, he also draws the attention of every staff member.

She steadfastly ignores the stares of her colleagues as she makes her way over to her team's desks. The staccato taps of her three inch heels provides the only noise in the silent room. She fights against the building irritation; she could really do without being treated like a form of entertainment. Her fiancé died; she's not a circus act!

She steals Esposito's empty chair, sinking down as low as she can. A phone rings then, cutting across the silence. Both acts seem to prompt the officers back to action and within a second the bullpen is once again awash with noise.

"Guys," she utters in greeting once she is sure no one is going to be listening in to their conversation. She nods at Javier perched beside her on his desk, and at Kevin who has spun his chair round to face them. He inches it forward on its castors until he the three of them form a close huddle.

"How you doing, chica?"

She shrugs; does he really expect a response? Although she contemplates that perhaps she should think of a stock answer. After all, it is likely that many people will be asking her that very same question numerous times in the days or weeks to come. Either that, or they will do their uttermost to avoid her, or engage her in inane and awkward conversation. Yeah, she's not looking forward to any of those scenarios.

"What _are_ you doing here Beckett; the funeral was only two days ago?"

Even the Irishman's caring blue eyes do nothing to lessen the irritation at his words. "I'm aware of that."

Ryan shifts under her icy stare and Esposito steps in. "Shouldn't you take a bit more time off?"

"And do what exactly?"

"Urm…" Kevin looks more and more uncomfortable and Javi seems to realise the error of their words. Since when were any of them prone to rest at home? Work kept all three of them going, even in the hardest of circumstances. As an example, two occasions have resulted in all three of them have being waterboarded, and all three were back at work the following day, determined to continue catching killers.

She softens her tone when they thankfully don't issue forth any stupid ideas of how she can better spend her time. "I need you guys to bring me up to speed on the investigation, then storm some ideas of where we can go from here."

The men are mid-nod when an authoritative voice cuts across them.

"Detective Beckett, a word?"

It is Gates and Beckett forces herself not to scowl; her superior provided significant help in organising resources in the Hamptons, and she is grateful for the support, but still Kate won't take it lightly if she is ordered back to compassionate leave.

"How are you doing, Detective?" the captain asks once they are both within the private confines of her office.

She still hasn't come up with a go-to response to that question so Beckett's first instinct is to reply with a quick 'fine', but she stops herself for two reasons. First, it would be an obvious lie and Gates would see through it in an instant. And secondly, it would be an insult to Castle's memory for her to glibly suggest she's fine a mere two days after burying him. So Kate merely states that she's coping, and while it's not strictly true, it's a lesser lie.

"Detective, I understand you need to be here. And I will allow it. But," she raises a hand to cut off Beckett. "You are to remain in the precinct until the end of the week. I do not want you compromising the safety of yourself and your colleagues because you are unable to concentrate out in the field, however understandable that may be. Do you understand?"

The old Beckett may have argued and maintained she was able to overcome whatever personal difficulty befell her. But the new Beckett has better knowledge of her weaknesses and limits, and losing Castle pretty much tops them. So she nods and thanks her Captain. And she decides being confined to her desk is probably a good thing; it will allow her to concentrate solely on the Hamptons' murders.

* * *

"Safe," she breathes once she rejoins Ryan and Esposito. They share a fist bump, more out of solidarity than any form of triumph, then she leads the way to the murderboard. She staunchly ignores her desk, or more specifically the empty chair beside her desk. Still, she blanches at the sight of Rick's, Martha's and Alexis' photos on the murderboard. Sure, there was a board in the Hamptons' police station, and a makeshift one at their hotel, which themselves were difficult enough to look at every day. But this is her precinct. This is where she solves murders and catches killers. It makes it all so much more real.

Aside from the last two days, she has kept abreast of the investigation. The guys inform her there have been no developments in the last two days. She runs a hand through her hair on a sigh. She doesn't like it, but with the lack of evidence to trail, they are going to have to start speculating as to who might be responsible. They create a grid on the board within which they can place names depending on how likely they are to have targeted Castle and his family. It will give them a chance to prioritise who to pursue.

Ryan is the first one to propose perhaps their most obvious candidate. "Do you think it was Bracken?"

"Revenge?" Espo chips in.

"Bracken?" Kate mulls it over for a moment before shaking his head. "Everything he did was calculated to protect himself and his career. Revenge doesn't seem his style; there would be nothing to gain but self-satisfaction. He doesn't work like that."

Ryan inks in the former senator's name under the 'unlikely' category on the board, and Esposito makes the next suggestion.

"3XK? If he's alive."

"Maybe," she sighs. "But his main enemy was Castle. It's more likely he'd kill me alongside Alexis and Martha, to punish Castle."

"But he was going to kill him when he framed him for murder."

"Yes, but only after making him suffer, and destroying his reputation. I don't know." She runs a frustrated hand through her hair again. "He enjoys the theatricality of the murder. A small bomb and a road accident seem too simple. There was no elaborate build up. He didn't tease us."

"Maybe not but he's the only guy to have an obvious grudge against Castle."

"Okay… Let's… Let's put him as a possibility."

Without needing to explain, Ryan pens in Kelly Neiman next to 3XK; the connection between the two warrants them both being investigated. They spend the next half an hour throwing around names but without much elucidation, aside from the fact that almost any of murders Castle has helped solve could connect to someone with a grudge against him.

"Okay," Kate is the one who calls it, realising they aren't getting anywhere productive. "Ryan, I know we don't have much on 3XK anymore, but can you draw together everything you can find, anything you can remember about his case? And bring in Neiman too." He assents and she pauses before voicing her next request, reluctant to walk back down that particular path, but eventually realising she'll be doing a poor job if she ignores it. "Espo, can you bring together Bracken's web of associates, hit men, anyone who suffered because he's behind bars." He readily agrees, and she thanks him for doing the work she isn't ready to face.

After arresting Bracken, part of her had, perhaps naively, believed she would never have to delve back into her mother's case again. After fifteen years, she was finally able to stop hunting the man who had taken away a part of her. Although Castle had done wonders in bringing happiness to her life, after arresting Bracken, Kate was finally able to completely relax when she wanted and not feel a gnawing guilt that she should be working the case.

The moment of slapping the handcuffs on the senator's wrists was satisfying, but the defining moment came when she and Castle went to her apartment for the sole purpose of taking down Johanna Beckett's murderboard. It was as if packing up and sealing away the evidence was an outward expression of her anger and unrest and despair being stored away in a dark, remote recess of her mind. Still, she had shed a few tears; getting justice hadn't erased the ache of losing her mother; that is a pain that is never going to fade. Castle was understanding, giving her space while they worked, and waiting for her to seek comfort in him. And when the last box was taped up, she pushed her away into his arms, silently weeping. He held her for as long as she needed, until eventually she was able to flash him a wobbly smile. He'd told her how proud he was of her. And she uttered the sentiment back at him, saying with a surety that her mother, wherever she was, was watching them, content that her Katie had found happiness with him.

For her part, Kate designates all the cases Castle has worked on with them. She will attempt to identify anyone with a more than a passing fascination or anger against him, or perhaps even herself. She will focus on those who have been released, however, she will also take into account the fact that they may have paid someone.

Moving to her desk to begin the mammoth task, her gaze eventually alights on the empty chair and she falters. Aside from coffee, it's perhaps one of the greatest symbols of their relationship. From the beginning, when he sat beside her to gather inspiration and information for his Nikki Heat novels, or merely to just annoy her. And then they progressed to civil discussions, bouncing theory, discussing weekend plans and how his daughter was doing. And more recently they discussed their wedding plans: the date; the venue; the caterers.

Once again, despite doing her best to compartmentalise, it hits her with full force; from now on, the chair will be empty.

_Always_.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone still reading this. Thank you also to those of you who have so kindly reviewed. To the guest reviewer who I wasn't able to contact directly - thank you for helping me keep my faith in this fic and in my writing._


	8. Chapter 8

Almost a week later and she is sat at her desk in the precinct. It is May 31st. Nineteen days since her happiness was ripped from her. But Castle was still with her earlier this month. Tomorrow it will be June; the first month for which he won't be alive.

As it's a Saturday, the only officers present are those working active cases. The bullpen is therefore fairly quiet as Kate continues trawling through the cases Castle has worked upon. In truth, she has searched through them once, and has begun her second run through the material.

Given that they were convicted of homicide, pretty much all the killers Castle helped put behind bars are still there. Still, it took a good couple of days to review them all. She's now checking relatives and friends of the criminals, along with anyone they may have contact with in prison. It's an arduous task and so far has revealed no solid leads. Still, she persists. She's created a gruelling schedule for herself; arriving at the precinct at around seven in the morning and not leaving until after ten at night, after which time she goes over the day's notes in her apartment.

She's refusing to admit it to herself, but she's fallen back down that rabbit hole. Except this time, there's no hand reaching down to grasp hers and pull her out. Sure, the boys, Lanie, her father and even Gates are coaxing her. But the only two who were ever able to reach her were Royce, and to a much greater extent, Castle.

But both are gone.

So she pushes on, riding on a lack of sleep, snacks and the occasional proper meal which Jenny prepares and gives to Kevin to bring in for her. And she can't rest. She can't allow herself to grieve. Not yet, not properly. But still it catches her off guard sometimes. Like yesterday when she glanced over at Castle's chair which still resides by her desk (point blank refuses to even think about having it removed). A momentary lapse had her looking up to share a piece of information with him. Except the chair was so heartbreakingly empty. She'd tried to stop the tears, so desperately. But they kept building as her mind refused to block the taunting voice that told her over and over again that Rick will never again fill that chair, that she no longer had her partner with whom to build theory, that her fiancé was simply gone. In the end, she had to rush to the bathroom and hide there for a good fifteen minutes whilst she bawled out her loss in an empty stall, with her sobs echoing lonely off of the sterile tiles.

Eventually, resolutely, she pushed down the grief, forcing herself to compartmentalise so she could focus on her job. It's the same process she goes through every morning. She showers, scrubbing at her face to erase the evidence of the night's tears. She puts on her work clothes, her makeup and scrapes her hair back in a high ponytail. Her three or four inch heels complete the look, and she becomes Detective Beckett. The grieving fiancée in her is pushed to the back burner so she can do her best to bring justice to Castle, Martha and Alexis. When it succeeds, she feels almost like she's two separate people: the wounded woman who curls up alone and cries herself to sleep hugging her dead partner's pillow; and the fierce cop with the emotionless demeanour.

* * *

"I've got something!"

The boys are in, finishing off paperwork after an arrest they made this morning which closed a case they spent the week working on. They turn at Beckett's call and push themselves round to her desk on the castors of their chairs. They crash to a spectacular stop and it _almost_ elicits a smile from her. They look at her expectantly.

"Remember Charlie Sisneros?" she asks of the man who was convicted nearly three years ago. It was a fairly simple case; he murdered his ex-girlfriend and her new fiancé in a fit of jealous rage. However, the murders themselves were brutal enough to stay with the detectives. Given the impromptu nature of the crime, DNA evidence was easy enough to find at the scene. It was matched to Charlie who was in the system after being convicted of aggravated assault some years previously. Angry words had been hurled at Beckett and Castle when she arrested him, though neither thought much of it; killers are rarely cheery and friendly when arrested. "His brother, Joseph was released from The Federal Correction Institution in Otisville three weeks prior to-" she cuts herself off; she still can't say it. Every time she alludes to the murders of her soon to be family, she either stops short of dances around the subject. "Guess what he was in prison for."

"Dangerous driving?" Ryan suggests.

"Arson?" his partner counters.

"Yes," she points to Esposito. "Set fire to an abandoned warehouse. And get this; there wasn't enough evidence to convict, but he was suspected of building and detonating a small bomb four years ago in a disused area of the East River waterfront."

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Ryan asks.

"We go question him, come on!" And she jumps up, only to be stopped by Esposito, raising a salient point.

"Aren't you on desk duty until Monday?"

She sighs and turns back to her boys who have done so much for her over the past few years, even risking their jobs a few times. "Gates isn't here; she doesn't have to know. And, look, Espo, I need to do this." She hates to put them in a difficult position again, but her words are true; she needs to do this, for Castle. "I'm happy to go alone, I-"

But she's cut off, "No way Beckett. We're a team, isn't that right, dude?" He turns to Ryan who nods earnestly.

"A team, Beckett. Let's nail this guy."

They all cannot ignore the wider significance the word 'team' has for them right now.

They can't ignore that there should be four of them striding out of the precinct together. Now there are only three.

* * *

After a relatively short drive through the light Saturday afternoon traffic, they arrive outside a New York City Housing Authority complex in Longwood, Bronx. The area is one of the poorer neighbourhoods in New York City, but the three low-rise buildings before them appear relatively well maintained. Beckett checks the address on her phone and strides with purpose towards the entrance of the middle structure.

Their suspect opens the door relatively quickly after Beckett knocks. He's a tall man, around the same height as Rick, clean shaven with a short, dark hair. His attire is smart yet casual; dark denim with a black t-shirt. He doesn't flinch when Kate raises her badge.

"Joseph Sisneros? Detective Beckett, NYPD. And these are Detectives Ryan and Esposito. We have a few questions."

He cordially invites them in, and it's only when they are all seated that his eyes turn hard and cold, boring into Kate. "You're the bitch who put my brother behind bars."

Accustomed to verbal insults in her line of work, she ploughs ahead with her investigation, "We're enquiring about two incidents which took place in on May 12th."

"And you think I had something to do with it." It's a statement, not a question; he's obviously a man familiar with being on the police's radar.

"We're just here to ask you a few questions."

"Wait," he utters as if something has just occurred to him, though he continues to exude the same calm. "This wouldn't be to do with the death of that writer and his family, would it." Again, his tone of voice suggests a statement, not a question. Immediately, the suspicions of all three cops are piqued.

"And how would you know that?" Espo asks, the beginning of a dangerous glint forming in his eyes.

He shrugs with deliberate slowness and nonchalance. "Just a feeling, I guess. I can't say I'm upset about the demise of Mr Castle." He smiles then. "Deserves everything he got, for what he did to my brother. Quite a hot way to go, from what I hear. Wish I was there to see it. I would have enjoyed seeing the horror on his face as the flames crept closer and closer, knowing he could do nothing to save himself."

"I'd stop there it I were you." Ryan starts, but Joseph cuts across him, his manner almost serene.

"I hope he was aware when the flames engulfed him inch by inch." Esposito yells something then but he continues, his smile growing wider, his eyes locked with Beckett who is trembling; nausea and anger and grief clamour together and she clenches her fists and sets her jaw in a desperate bid to keep a hold of her emotions. "I hope he could smell the burning of his own flesh, feel as the fire penetrated through to muscle and then bone."

Beckett's control snaps. "Bastard!" she yells, lunging for him.

With lightening quick reflexes, Javier grabs her arm, halting her movements and swinging her round, away from their suspect. He pushes her into Ryan's hands. "Take her outside."

After Ryan has hustled their female counterpoint out the doors of the apartment, Esposito turns back to the man. He knows the suspect expects a rise out of him, but the detective isn't going to give him the satisfaction. He returns to the point of their visit. "Where were you in the early afternoon on May 12th 2014?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Again with the sly smile, and as tough as he is, even Javier is feeling uncomfortable under the intense gaze.

"Talk, or I'll arrest you for obstruction of justice."

"You do that, and I'll raise a complaint about that bitch attacking me… You really think she'll be able to cope with being fired after her fiancé's _fiery_ death?"

"She never touched you."

"Ah, but the intent was there."

His fists clench, wanting nothing more than to inflict pain on the man in payback for the pain he inflicted on Beckett with his words. "You're a sick bastard."

* * *

Kate paces outside the front of the building whilst Kevin looks on; he's at a loss. Javier is always better as relating to Kate. Kevin had a better bond with Castle; he paid most attention to the writer's theories and was able to enthuse with him from time to time. Man, he misses him.

Turning abruptly when she comes to the end of the three apartments, Kate retraces her steps back towards Kevin, although she pays him little heed. She's so damned angry; more at herself than at Joseph Sisneros. She shouldn't have lashed out like that, shouldn't have let her emotions cloud her judgement and jeopardise their investigation. She's usually better at controlling her emotions on the job. However, it takes no genius to work out why now is different. The guy had deliberately touched her rawest nerve, and she'd acted much as she had when anyone had goaded her about her mother. Only now she has no calming voice of her partner to encourage her to pause and check her actions.

"Damn it!" she exclaims just before Esposito exits the building. She catches sight of him and rounds to face him. "Anything?"

"Nope. Bastard wouldn't talk. Acted like it was all a big game."

Ryan turns from his wary contemplation of Beckett, to address his partner. "Can't we arrest him on obstruction of justice?"

"Tried that man, he threatened to report Beckett."

She swears and aims a kick at a discarded soda can, sending it skidding out across the road to collide with the opposite kerb. The act does little to settle her agitation at the situation. And she's not even going to start analysing the horrific images which were invoked by Sisneros' disgusting words. That can wait until later, when she's alone in her apartment with no one to witness her falling apart again.

Her main worry right now is whether Joseph will carry out his threat. She would be in enough trouble as it is for attacking a suspect without due cause, but with Gate's specific instructions to remain out of the field, it would be doubtful she would escape severe disciplinary action. Worse, the boys would be landed in trouble for knowingly assisting her. "You think he'll keep quiet if we leave him alone?"

Espo shrugs. "Maybe. But we still need to establish whether he's our guy."

"Okay," she sighs, forcing herself to stop with the emotional outburst and think like a cop. "Let's try to ascertain his whereabouts first. If it transpires he was in the Hamptons, then we'll worry about that later."

"Financials, security footage, and neighbours?" Ryan suggests.

"Yes to the first two," she replies. "But let's hold off on the neighbours for now. I don't want word getting back to him in case it prompts him to raise that complaint."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone still reading this. Would really appreciate any feedback if anyone has the time to write me a quick note!_

_Apologies for any inaccuracies in this fic as a whole. I've never set foot in America so this story requires a bit of research. My internet browsing history is a little odd: US prisons; New York waterfront areas; car fire dynamics; bombs (among other things which I've researched for future chapters). I even took the little Google Maps man on a walk through the Bronx!_


	9. Chapter 9

Monday morning finds the team in the park following an early call from dispatch. Even with Kate's recent propensity to arrive early at the precinct, she nevertheless finds it a shock to the system to arrive at her first body drop for weeks. Thankfully, the summer months bring an early sunrise and as such it almost doesn't feel like half six in the morning. The natural light filtering through the trees is sufficient to illuminate the scene before them. The sunlight glints off the police tape strung between trees, shines off the metal buttons and badges of the officers' uniforms, and glistens across the dew covered grass. But the overall area is far from beautiful. Kate takes in the body of a female lying on her back upon the gravel path. Doctor Parish is hunched over, making precise notes on her clipboard.

"What have you got for me, Lanie?"

If the ME is surprised to see her friend back on active duty, she doesn't show it. Instead she proceeds to outline all that she knows, "Black female, late forties I'd say. Preliminary COD is blunt force trauma to the head, possibly just from the fall." She indicates the dried blood pooled around the victim's head. Small streams of the liquid have crept further between stones to create what under other circumstances would be considered an artistic pattern.

From her crouched position, Kate assesses the body, noting that there appears to be no bag, purse, nor anywhere in the woman's clothing to store personal affects. "So anything suspicious so far?"

"You bet." Lanie points to the upper arms, bared by the short capped sleeves of the smart blouse. "See these bruising patterns? She was grabbed with some strength. She also has some fibres and blood beneath her fingernails. Hopefully she can help solve her own murder."

"And TOD?"

"I'd say between eight and ten last night."

Kate thanks her friend and stands, flexing her leg muscles to dispel to slight numbing sensation crouching down has caused. "Espo, any idea on ID?"

"No purse or phone," he confirms her earlier suspicions, but holds up an evidence bag. "But we have a pass for The Cisco and Exum Group. No idea what they do, but unis are contacting them to see if someone can ID our vic."

Ryan steps forward then, informing them that the body was discovered this morning by a now very shaken jogger. He also states that there are no cameras pointing at the scene. Kate gives him the task of instructing the tech department at the precinct to run through cameras elsewhere in the park. The aim is to determine the victim's last moments, and if they're in luck, catch a glimpse of their killer if she was followed.

She spends the next half an hour making her own notes on the scene, including the information Lanie and the boys and have provided her with, and the overall layout of body with relation to the surrounding landscape. Just as Kate is about to leave the scene and return to her car, Lanie pulls her aside with a concerned expression. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, sweetie. But you sure you're okay to be back working cases?"

And Kate is so tempted to tell her she's fine. But just like with Captain Gates, she doesn't want to imply, even for a second that the loss of Castle is an inconsequential event in her life. Instead, she decides keeping her emotions completely out of the conversation is better. "Gates restricted me to desk duty for a week. The week is over and I'm fully capable of returning to active duty."

"Uh huh," her friend sounds far from convinced, and her expression is just as sceptical as her tone. "And your psychiatrist? You're seeing him, I hope."

Kate takes a moment to weigh up her options.

She lies.

* * *

Since their return to the precinct, Ryan has spent his time going over finances and security footage in an attempt to place Joseph Sisneros' whereabouts on May 12th. Kate had originally wanted to carry out the task, but given that Gates appears to be keeping a close eye on her, it was decided it would be safer for Ryan to carry out the checks while Kate concentrates on today's homicide. Although, thankfully, Gates' attention appears to stem from a general concern over Kate, rather than any knowledge of what transpired two days previously in Sisneros' apartment.

"It's not him." Ryan pushes back in his chair and rubs a hand over his despondent features. "Sisneros isn't our guy."

"What?" Beckett shoots up. "It has to be him. The things he was say… He was taunting us."

"He was just having fun I reckon," Ryan replies. "Attempting a sick form of payback for his brother."

"But he knew what we were there to ask him about."

"But it's been all over the news Beckett. And he recognised you. And given your connection to his brother, it's not a difficult leap to make."

"So how do you know he's not our guy?" Espo asks.

"His financials show he made a cash withdrawal from an ATM on East 167th Street, right at the time of the accident. I checked security cam footage; it's definitely him Beckett. He can't have been in the Hamptons."

"Damn it!" She runs a frustrated hand through her hair and huffs out a breath. "He could have hired someone."

"Beckett, his finances show he's barely making enough to feed himself. It's not him."

"So we're back to square one."

Esposito's phone rings then and he turns to answer it. Ryan too is prevented by uttering empty platitudes to Kate by the appearance of Gates. "Any updates for me?"

"Nothing concrete, Sir," Ryan replies.

Ending his brief phone call, Esposito speaks up. "Actually, yes. Unis spoke to the manager of The Cisco and Exum Group. Our vic has been identified as Doctor Joy Kirwan. Next of kin are on their way in now."

"Okay, I want you to wait and speak to them first. Then I want the three of you to head out to speak to the doctor's co-workers."

* * *

It was hard. So damned _hard_.

At least with her mother, there was a period of a few years between her death and the time in her career when it became her duty to inform family of the death of a loved one. Though the ache was still present, the sheer rawness of losing her mother had blunted somewhat.

Now however, three weeks after losing her fiancé, the pain still hits her brutally and frequently, the loss is a massive gaping wound which hasn't even begun to heal. And the devastation she saw written all over Joy Kirwan's husband's face was a reflection of her own hurt. And she just wanted to sob along with the man's cries.

And then there was the twenty year old daughter, barely an adult. And yet she had just lost her mother. And it takes Kate all the way back to when she received her own news; the first tragedy which devastated her. The young woman literally crumpled when the words left Kate's mouth. The life changing words. The words, that once they are uttered, cannot be taken back.

How she kept it together, she doesn't know.

But _shit_, she just wants Castle.

* * *

She took a few minutes alone in the precinct's bathroom to compose herself after Doctor Kirwan's family left. She screwed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, attempted to block out the tear stained face of the daughter and the slack features and slumped shoulders of the husband. But with no pleasant images of her own to replace them, the pictures were hard to push down.

Eventually she forced the hurt down and away, closed herself off and erected her Detective Beckett mask. Looking at her, no one would know the grief she is hiding. It is reminiscent of the years before Castle, when she had walls constructed around her heart. Except this time the second tragedy has forced those walls to be thicker. And as the days go by, brick by brick, the barrier around Kate is climbing higher. Eventually, Kate will be locked away and only Beckett will remain. There are moments when she realises this. And she doesn't especially care to stop the process.

Now, fully composed, she is sitting with the boys in a meeting room of The Cisco and Exum Group. Located in Eastchester, the company develops and produces chemicals for a wide range of purposes: pharmaceuticals; cleaning products; chemical agents for school and university laboratories; compounds used within large manufacturing plants. Joy Kirwan herself was a research chemist. The detectives are currently discussing the victim's life with her line manager; Doctor Garnet Schrader.

"Do you have any idea what Doctor Kirwan was doing in the park last night?" Kate begins after pleasantries have been exchanged and condolences expressed.

The immaculately dressed woman before them nods, shifting her glasses up her nose as she speaks. "She would leave the tube a couple of stops early every day, and make it a point to walk the rest of the way through the park. She liked the clarity is gave her after a long day at work."

Kate frowns, "But yesterday was Sunday. Did she often work over the weekends?"

"She has- She _had_ a presentation tomorrow about a new drug which played the main role in developing. She wanted to ensure the presentation was perfect; she was very dedicated."

"Can you think of anyone who may have wanted to harm her?"

When she shakes her head, Ryan prompts, "Any work disputes?"

"Oh no! In fact, I'm moving to Colorado next month. Joy was just promoted to take my position."

"And there was no one who was angry that she succeeded above them?"

"No, no. At her grade, Joy was by far the most experienced. Everyone was happy to see her promoted; she already gave a great deal of assistance to the junior staff members. Managing them would have only increased her ability to help them."

"And what do you know about her personal life?"

"Her and her husband were very happy together, and she had a good relationship with her daughter. Such a lovely family; it's awful what they're going through," she pauses to clear her throat; the emotional impact of her colleagues death is clearly only now registering. "She had a small group of friends she socialised with occasionally: couple of old school friends; neighbours; friends from the maternity classes she went to before she had Alyss. But no one would want to hurt her; she was just _so_ nice."

The questioning ends naturally at that point and they proceed to speak to a number of Joy's colleagues. The picture of the victim is shaping up to be one who was much liked and respected at work, had good personal relationships, and wasn't one to cause strife with others. This information, coupled with the lack of valuables at the crime scene, indicates a mugging gone wrong. But with no news yet from the canvassing officers or results from the security footage, the detectives have to continue building a picture of the victim.

* * *

Kate rubs her eyes, realising too late that she's smudged the makeup she'd applied over twelve hours ago. With the lead of Castle's case extinguished, and a fresh homicide to investigate, it's turning into a late night at the precinct. Yet another late night. Late nights which have combined to create the exhaustion now hitting her at full force. She almost reaches for a coffee, only to remember her customary blue cup contains only water. She no longer drinks coffee.

The last coffee she drank was one prepared by Castle on the early morning of their wedding day. They had arrived at the Hamptons late the night before and so he was up early the next morning to fetch their marriage licence. He awoke her with a gentle kiss and a cup of steaming cappuccino, complete with a heart carefully crafted in the foam. She curled up against his side and they drank their beverages together, both silent and marvelling that in a short time they would be married. Eventually, reluctantly, they disentangled. He bestowed upon her another, more lingering kiss, and then departed. And that was the last time she saw him.

She did try. A few days after returning to the precinct, she'd prepared a latte from the machine he'd bestowed upon the homicide floor shortly after his arrival. But raising the cup to her mouth, the smell enveloped her, almost choking her with the memories it invoked. Coffee was not only a part of their last moments together, it was also such an intrinsic part of their entire relationship. Drinking coffee now, alone, would reduce the significance of all those moments and memories.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to everyone reading this, and thank you so much for the reviews._

_Apologies that it is so case-centric at the moment - it is necessary for the progression of the fic. Hope you'll stick with me as it does pick up - I have it all planned out and know exactly where I'm going, it's just a case of laying down the pieces. Also, there are only so many ways I can write 'Kate is sad'... :-)_


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